Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction: My 5 Stories
by Dark Shadow Of A Phoenix
Summary: Five stories. Some true, some false. It's up to you to separate actual events from tales that came from my own imagination. Are you ready to enter a world that is Beyond Belief?
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction, but I do own all of the fictitious stories within this fanfic.

Author's Note: I may not get the show's intro exactly right, if I didn't, please correct me.

_We live in a world where the real lives side by side by the unreal. Where many try to find explanations to the unexplainable. Today, I have prepared for you five stories, some true, others not. Many have attempted to separate fact from fiction, few have succeeded. Will you? To do so, you must break free from the web of your own memories and enter a world that is..._

_BEYOND BELIEF.

* * *

_

**Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction?**

If you bothered to read the intro, you'll know exactly what this fanfic is about. If you didn't, I sure as heck am NOT going to tell you again, so I suggest you read the italicized print right now.

As stated in the intro, there are five stories in this fanfic. Some of them are true, coming from reliable sources. Others I made up completely. It is up to you to separate the truth from lies, fact from fiction. Are you ready?

If so, read on to Chapter 2, and get ready to face things...

Beyond Belief.

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Author's Note: Moderators and site developers, this is not a fanfic where the author's decisions affect the story in any way, shape, or form. 


	2. The Ghost in the Attic

**STORY NUMBER ONE: _THE GHOST IN THE ATTIC_**

Little George and Carter grew up in Washington, in a small neighborhood. They had both heard rumors about a man hanging himself in Carter's attic several years ago, but that didn't stop them from keeping warm there.

It was a cold winter day, and after hours of playing in the snow, the seven-year-olds huddled together in a fort they had built in the attic.

Out of the corner of his eye, Billy saw a man. A tall, bald-headed man, pacing back and forth by the wall of one of the sides of the attic.

He looked at Carter. Carter looked at him. Neither said a word.

Billy looked again. Sure enough, there was the man, pacing back and forth.

Finally, Billy yelled, "What are you doing here!"

Suddenly, the man ran straight at him. Billy gasped in horror. All he could think was, _I'm so dead!_

He didn't hear Carter's brothers walking up the stairs to the attic. He didn't see the door open. All he saw was the man disappear into thin air.

"What happened in here?" "I heard screaming." "Is everything okay?" Carter's brothers asked.

Then, at the same time, Billy and Carter told them the exact same story.

"Yeah, right. The ghost of the attic was here!" they said, sarcastically.

"B-but it's true!" Billy stammered, still shocked.

Carter walked over to where the man was standing. "He was right here!" he cried, pointing.

"That's impossible. Look." Carter's brother ran his hand along the floor. "Dust. And no footprints."

A little bit later, Billy was at the library, looking at newspapers from ten years ago. Sure enough, there was a column in the obituaries about a man hanging himself in Carter's house. And the man in the picture looked exactly like the bald-headed ghost.

* * *

_What happened here? Did Billy and Carter really see the ghost of the man who hanged himself in the attic, or was their imaginations simply carrying them away? After all, they were only seven. But then, how can you possibly explain the fact that the man in the obituaries looked exactly like the ghost?_

_Do you believe this story about the bald-headed man, or do you think it's all a bald-faced lie?_


	3. The Doll

Author's Note: The grammar mistakes in this story were intentional, because the characters don't use correct English.

**STORY NUMBER TWO: _THE DOLL_**

Bob Morris and his friends, Joe and Rick, were all around the age of twenty-one. None of them went to college, and they all lived together in their apartment. Being huge fans of horror movies, they watched them together every Saturday. _Nightmare On Elm Street_, _The Ring_,_ and Child's Play._

_Child's Play_ gave them the most laughs. Chucky was some of the best comedy they'd seen. They were just watching CP2 when Chucky threw Phil down the stairs and said, "How's it hangin', Phil?" The three rolled around the floor, laughing hysterically.

A few hours later, they would be doing anything _but_ laughing.

* * *

After drinking heavily, Rick tossed his bottle at the wall, even though it was still half full. Glass shattered as beer poured onto the floor.

"Hey, you remember when we told those kids yesterday about that house bein' haunted?"

"You mean the Ray's house?" Joe asked.

"Who gives a crap what it was called? Did you see the look on their faces when we took one of the kids and hoisted 'im over the fence into the yard?"

"Oh, yeah!" Bob remembered. "Then we trapped him inside. He was screaming so loud, I'm sure the whole neighborhood heard him."

"He really believed that house was haunted. Haunted, ha!"Rick scoffed. "Hey, why don't we set up a even bigger prank there tonight?"

"Whatcha mean?" Joe questioned, curiously. He loved scaring kids with sick pranks.

"Well, why not have Bob climb up to the attic and pour that fake blood all over him. Then Joe takes some kid inside and he sees Bob," Rick explained. "Kid screams, then I come out of the closet with a bloody knife."

"Oh, yeah, that'll be rich, seeing the kid's face! I'm in!" Bob exclaimed.

"Me, too!" Joe shouted.

"Then let's go."

* * *

A while later, the men were climbing the stairs to the top of the Ray's house when they found a long hallway leading to the door. All lined up along one wall were dolls. Dolls of all kinds, some looking neat, but there was one that looked really messed up. A scar running down his face, one of his eyes nearly destroyed, exposing raw brain and rotting flesh, and more stab wounds than you could count.

"Hey, doesn't that doll kinda look like Chucky?" Joe asked, pointing to the doll.

"Hey, yeah, kinda does. Maybe we can use him for our prank!" Bob said.

"Genius!" Rick exclaimed.

Joe grabbed the doll and proceeded the walk down the hallway.

"Hey!" Bob screamed, suddenly. "That doll just winked at me!"

"Yeah, right," Rick said, sarcastically.

"Your joke's not gonna work. We're the kings," Joe told him.

"That wasn't a joke," Bob muttered..

The three continued down the hallway until they reached a door.

"Crap, this stupid door's stuck," Rick said.

"Which is just perfect!" a voice shouted.

"Who's that?" Joe asked.

"Hey!" the voice said, calling Joe a certain obscene name, "down here!"

Joe looked down at the doll, and, horrified, he realized the doll was _alive!_

Without saying a word, Chucky pulled a knife from his pocket and attempted to stab Joe. Joe threw the doll to the ground and ran, along with his other mortified friends.

"Get back here!" Chucky yelled, cursing the men.

They all pounded on the door. Slamming their bodies into it, they caused it to collapse.

Hearing pursuing footsteps behind them, the men ran down another flight of stairs and fled the house.

None of them spoke of this incident again. And you can bet none of them ever watched Chucky movies after this, either.

* * *

_Is it possible that Chucky **isn't** just a horror-movie character? Some of you may believe this story is a lie._

_Others may believe the tale is true. And if that's the case..._

_**TURN AROUND! CHUCKY'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU!**_

Gotcha.


	4. The Tombstone

Author's Note: Although this story is in the first person, I am not the character in the story.

**STORY NUMBER THREE: _THE TOMBSTONES_**

Marcy was a new girl in our tenth-grade class. I know it's pretty mean, but my friends and I would always pick on her every day. Shannon, Robyn, Melanie, and I would tease her, embarrass her, take her money, and beat her up almost on a daily basis. I knew how much we were hurting her, but all my friends were doing it, and picking on Marcy definitely boosted my cool-rating.

Then, one day, all of that changed.

One day, after we had beaten Marcy up, a little harder than usual. Everyone cheered. Marcy was known as the "weird kid" around our school, not just because she was new, but she was also into weird stuff. You know, supernatural things. She read about voodoo and other superstitious crap.

She challenged us, "If you're so tough, let's see you break into the cemetery at_ midnight._"

The cheering stopped. Everyone had heard the rumors.

The legend was that long ago, before they drained the blood out of dead people, some people had near-death experiences, and came back to life in their coffins, where they suffocated. Now their spirits supposedly haunt the cemetery from midnight 'till dawn.

"Sure, why not?" Shannon asked.

Just then, the crowds became loud again, saying things like, "Do you think they'll do it?" "No way, they'll get killed!" "Yeah, right, those rumors aren't true!" "Oh, yeah, let's see _you_ in that cemetery!" "Uh... I'm not allowed out past ten."

"Are you sure you want to?" Marcy asked, as if daring us to. "If you go in there, you have my personal guarantee that _you will die._

She was just joking, right?

* * *

That night, Shannon lead us down Main Street towards the cemetery.

"Hey, Dora, what's the matter? Are you shaking?" Melanie asked me.

Yes, my name is Dora. I hate that name, because of a certain explorer with it, but my parents won't let me change my name.

"No," I lied, "it's just freezing cold out here.

Okay, I was pretty nervous, but, come on, you'd probably be afraid, too.

Shannon jumped the gate first, then Robyn, then Melanie. I was hesitant at first, but not going in would sure as heck ruin my reputation.

For some strange reason, Robyn wanted us to go to the far end of the cemetery. She said she heard someone calling her there, but I thought she was only trying to scare us.

But Shannon, being Robyn's twin sister, believed her, so Melanie and I went, too.

We arrived at four tombstones. Shannon shined the flashlight on one.

"Hey, Melanie, what's your name doing on this tombstone?"

"Beats me," she answered. "Maybe it's my mom's. I _was_ named after her."

"No, this says 'BORN: February 18, 1984. That's _you're_ birthday."

"Well, maybe my mom just placed mine in here before I died."

"Then why does it say, "DIED: March 27, 2000"?

"Weird..." she muttered.

Shannon shined her light on the next one. It read "Shannon Webber- BORN: October 2, 1983. DIED: March 28, 2000."

The next one said the same thing, only with Robyn's name on it.

The last one had my name. "BORN- January 30. DIED: March 29, 2000."

"This is way creepy," Robyn said. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, let's go," Melanie replied.

Little did I know that was the last time I'd see Melanie.

* * *

"That jerk!" Shannon screamed at us the next day. She slammed her locker door shut. "I can't believe he'd go out of his way just to hit Melanie!"

"Settle down," Shannon, I said. "It was in the middle of the night, and that guy was sleepy. It's not his fault. Melanie shouldn't have been jaywalking, anyway."

"Do you think that had anything to do with the tombstones?" Robyn asked, worried.

"No way," Shannon assured her. "It's just a coincidence."

Speaking of coincidence, that was the day that Shannon and Robyn both died of heart attacks during third period.

* * *

I spent a long time that day looking for Marcy. When I finally found her, I said, "Look, Marcy-"

"What? You want my money again? Fine, take it."

"No, I don't want your money. I just wanted to say..."

"What is it?" she snapped, rudely. I didn't blame her. The bell was about to ring.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks. I could tell she was trying to fight back tears in her eyes. But before I could say anything more, she ran off.

* * *

The next day, I asked Mr. Jones where Marcy was.

"You didn't hear? Marcy shot herself yesterday," was all he told me.

In the corner of the room, I saw Marcy's backpack. I picked it up, and a book fell out. Opening the book, I read the first paragraph my eyes fell upon. It read:

_Once your victim sees their grave, their fate is sealed. They will die the date the tombstone says. The only way to reverse this spell is to sacrifice yourself in place of one of the victims._

Now it all made sense. Marcy sacrificed herself _for me_.

It took me seven years before I had enough courage to go back into the cemetery. Melanie's, Robyn's, and Shannon's tombstones were still there. But mine wasn't. Marcy's was in my place.

* * *

_Is it possible that Marcy really had control over_ _life and death? Or was it all a giant coincidence? Either way, don't miss the moral of the story._

_When you mess with the unknown, there are grave consequences._


	5. Apology

I apologize to all my fans for deleting the _Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_ fanfic, but I my schoolwork and other projects prohibited me from continuing it. Don't worry, I have it all in my documents, and perhaps I will post them again sometime.

I would also like to apologize for not continuing this fanfic. I know that many of you have waited a while for my updates, and I did not bother to give them to you. Once again, I have it all on file, and I probably will write more.

About the three stories I did post...

_The Ghost in the Attic_ is a true story that happened about 40 years ago. Little Bill did see the man in his friend's attic. This story is fact.

**FACT!**

Let's look back at _The Doll_. This story couldn't possibly be based on truth, could it?

It could and it is. This one is true, also.

**FACT!**

And the girl who could control people's lives with tombstones? That one was fiction.

**FICTION!**

Once again, I deeply and sincerely apologize.


End file.
